Write

Write that the sun bore down on me,
kissing and kissing, and my face
reddened, blackened, whitened to ash,
was blown away by the passionate wind
over the fields, where my body's shape
still flattened the grass, to end s dust
in the eyes of my own ghost.

                                               Or write
that the river held me close in its arms, cold fingers
stroking my limbs, cool tongue probing my mouth,
water's voice swearing its love love love in my ears,
as I drowned in belief.

                             Then write the moon
striding down from the sky in its silver boots
to kick me alive; the stars like a mob of light,
chanting a nama, yours. Write your name in my lips
when I entered the dark church of the wood
like a bride, lay down for my honeymoon,
and write the night, sexy as hell, write the night
pressing and pressing my bones
into the ground.

Carol Ann Duffy in Rapture